Odd Sort of Magic
by Alexander Ryan
Summary: USUK. Arthur has always wished for a better life. He didn't know that one day, he would be granted this wish - in a very, very odd way. T for violence and implied sexual material.


"So... If I drink this, my life will get better?" He held the glass bottle in his hand. Through the dim light of the alleyway, he stared at the questionable violet liquid within.

The beautiful dark-skinned woman adorned in foreign robes stared at him with amber eyes. Golden hoops jingled and black hair – hidden within the folds of a dark blue hood – swayed within the folds of her dark blue hood – swayed as she nodded, her arms at her side. "Yes," she spoke calmly. No trace of a smile revealed itself. "All your worries will vanish, I assure you. You would be able to start over, just as you wish." She held a thick accent, her voice as sweet as honey. If it weren't for the rumors of this woman's... _abilities_, he would surely believe she was a princess of a faraway land.

But he knew better. This woman was widely known as Kilaanah, the wish-granter. It was said that she would only appear to those who truly needed her aid. Until now, due to the rarity of the stories and the delay of years between each one, he hadn't believed in such a thing. But here she was now, just as the stories told. Her appearance, the time, the place, the manner of speaking... Everything fit the description, down to the very last word. Not only that, but she looked exactly as the portrait hanging on the wall of his apartment complex portrayed her.

He swallowed hard, sweat running down the side of his face. Shaky hands pulled the cork out of the top with a _pop_. A light mist rose from the liquid, out the bottle, and vanished without a trace. He cautiously brought the rim to his nose and inhaled. There was no scent. Hesitant, he glanced to the woman. She watched with an unreadable gaze. His eyes returned to the flask, then he sighed. "I've got nothing else to lose..." he muttered under his breath. It was the truth. He was living alone in a one-bedroom apartment. He didn't have anyone he could call a 'friend', only an enemy who taunted him relentlessly. He lost his job just that night due to something that wasn't even his fault. He had no interest in romance, it wasn't his thing. His family overseas had forgotten about him and hadn't sent a letter in at least a year. The only thing he had left was his small, cramped apartment, and even that was on the verge of being taken from him.

Without another moment of hesitation, he downed the drink in one go. It tasted sweet – sickeningly sweet. It tingled as it slid past his tongue and down his throat. The tingling quickly spread and intensified. His whole body trembled. A strong urge to vomit overtook him. He held it down by crossing his arm over his stomach and clamping a hand over his lips. The world around him spun and twisted, with only the woman and him standing motionless. His body lurched and threatened to empty his stomach of tonight's small dinner. His skin was hot to the touch. He felt as though he were on fire. He looked at Kilaanah with wide eyes, thick eyebrows drawn together. She stared back with that same unchanged expression. He stumbled forward and grabbed her silk robes, drawing his face close to hers. His green eyes held wild panic, sweat glistening on his skin. "What did you do to me?" he choked out.

Silence.

He was sent into a fit of violent coughing. His hands recoiling from the folds of silk, he stumbled back and covered his mouth with a balled fist. His shoulder slammed into the clammy brick wall and his free hand pressed against it in an attempt to keep him upright and steady. His legs, however, failed on him and he fell to the concrete below, still damp from the earlier rain. His coughing died to a wheezing as his chest heaved. He laid on his side, limp and helpless, watching the woman with blurring vision.

She crouched down next to him and pressed a slender finger to his lips. Her expression remained calm, her eyes taking on a more gentle look. "Shh. Sleep, Arthur Kirkland." He had never told her his name. "I will make sure you are brought to a good home. Your wish will be granted in due time." He fought to stay away. His whole body felt numb and his limbs refused to move. His vision blurred until all he could see were those gentle, sad amber eyes. His eyelids finally slid closed. His breathing slowed. Darkness surrounded him.

◆ • • • ◆

He was cold. His whole body shivered violently, soaked to the bone. He tried curling up to help warm himself, but found that his muscles refused to heed to his will. Where was he? He tried to recall the events of last night. The woman... That potion... Surely it was just a dream, right? His eyes snapped open as large, warm hands grabbed around his waist. The grip was gentle and yet firm at the same time. But they were much too large. They could almost wrap around his whole waist. It was as if a giant had reached down and lifted him right off of his side. His muscles tensed and he struggled to be free.

"Shh, s'okay, little guy. I won't hurt ya," a male's voice cooed. Arthur turned his head toward the sound as he was held against a warm chest, large arms cradling him. His whole body tensed, feeling the hairs of his body beginning to stand on end. But he couldn't struggle any longer. He felt too weak, his mind too hazy. He lay limp in the man's arms. A large hand stroked from his head and down his back. The hand returned to the top of his head. His green eyes slid closed at the feeling of the hand rocking side to side, the muscles in the sides of his head relaxing. His body relaxed and a gentle purr vibrated through his chest and throat.

Wait, what? A _purr_? He sounded exactly like a-. His thoughts cut off as the hand retreated and he bounced lightly at the man's footfall. The purring instantly ceased. His eyes opened to look up at the man in curiosity. Blue eyes, framed by thin metal, stared straight back. A light laugh came from his lips. "It's okay, kitty." Kitty? _Kitty?_ Arthur stared in disbelief, then skepticism. Sure, that's what he sounded like, but he was in no way a cat. There was no way he could be.

Once again, the man laughed. "Don't look at me like that, geeze," he spoke as his gaze lifted to look ahead. "You're makin' me feel bad for findin' ya." American. Definitely America. The accent and volume told it all. He should have suspected as much, after all. Arthur had just hoped that the blond hair and blue eyes hinted to European – or at least, anything _but_ American. He had such a strong dislike for the citizens of the US. They all seemed loud, obnoxious, and rude to him, every one of them. The only reason he was here was because he had moved here in the hopes that he would one day live in the beautiful countryside, where no one could bother him.

He shrugged away the thoughts. He was much too tired to linger on them for too much longer. Instead, he thought back to the previous comment. Kitty... Just what did the humongous man mean? Arthur looked to himself. And froze on the spot. Where his hands should have been were two small, furry paws, connected to two furry legs. Panic settling in, his eyes followed up to his body. Instead of seeing his usual attire and only small patches of skin (his hands and occasionally his ankles), he was rewarded with the sight of white fur covering a feline body, with a light brown patch on his rear left hip. A poofy tail lay dangled over the stranger's arm. He let out a scream. It came out a scratchy cry, as if he had accidentally struck a stray car with a thrown stone.

It was then that all his strength returned to him. He began struggling in the arms. Through his racing thoughts and panicked meows and hisses, he could just barely hear the yells of the startled man. After a moment's struggle, he finally broke free from his bonds. He leaped out of the large arms and landed safely to the ground. He took off in a sprint. Or at least, that's what he had tried and ultimately failed to do. Fatigue hit him like an out-of-control freight train. He collapsed to the cold, damp ground at his futile efforts. Gentle arms scooped him up and held him against a firm chest. This time, he didn't struggle. The cooing, worried murmurs barely reached his ears as he allowed himself to be carried. He sat still and quiet, idly watching the faces, building, and vehicles pass by in an unfocused blur.

He was carried for only a few blocks before the stranger ascended up five steps, to a wooden white door with the number 01 nailed on in fancy silver lettering. As the blond fished for what Arthur assumed was a key, the cat took in the sight before him. It was a two-story townhouse. The walls were an off-white color with blue-tinted wood framing the door and windows. A flag of stars and stripes proudly hung from the pole right of the steps. The railing lining the light gray steps was clearly made of near-black iron, the thin beams holding the two diagonal rails shaped to look like spears. It was rather plain-looking, in his opinion. It looked like simple railing found on many fences and gates. But, he supposed, it wasn't all that bad and did accent the house a bit more.

The inside looked much more like a normal home, he realized as the door finally opened and the man took him inside. Green eyes swept across everything he could possibly see. Just to the right, past a small closet, looked to be a staircase that curved to the left after three steps. In front of him, he assumed was the bathroom or something similar, the door facing the living room. A loveseat, covered in clothes and blankets, was shoved up against the wide window and a large, three-cushioned couch separated the makeshift 'hallway' from the living room. Both couches were dusty brown in color and quite worn with use. A squat fireplace was situated in front of the wooden coffee table, a flat screen television mounted just above it. Beyond the living room, opposite of the loveseat, was an open kitchen with a kitchen table set between it and the living room. Beside the kitchen was a door he assumed lead to the backyard.

He wasn't able to take in the condition of these rooms, for as soon as the American kicked off his shoes, he headed up the carpeted steps. "Hey, Mattie! I'm home!" the obnoxious blond called out as he continued up the main flight of stairs. The steps turned to the left once more for only another three steps, opening into a small hallway. Directly in front was a bathroom, flanked by two doors. Only one was open, revealing a quite messy bedroom.

The other door soon opened, another blond with a delicate curl waving in front of his face poking his out from behind. Gently, the other man smiled. "Welcome home, Alfred." His voice was soft and gentle, almost shy. Arthur vaguely wondered what kind of relationship the two blonds held. Siblings? Friends? … Lovers? Curious violet eyes settled on him. The soft-spoken male quietly exited the room and closed the door behind him. His light footfalls sounded as though he wasn't even there, as if he were only a ghost. "What's this?" It was then that Arthur decided. The two were siblings, sharing the same home. There was no way two people could sound nearly exactly alike and _not_ be siblings of some sort. Not only that, but they had nearly the same facial structure. This one, though... This one seemed so much more kind and gentle than the other.

"A stray I found in an alleyway," the louder one – Alfred – replied. He stepped into the bathroom, the smaller male in the gray hoodie following after. It was rather cramped, but they seemed to manage just fine as Alfred sat on the side of the peach tub and began running the water. Arthur's ears laid back. He knew exactly what this meant... He let out a hiss and tried to struggle, but his muscles refused to put up that much of a fight. He soon gave up on this and laid there in the American's lap, his head resting on the knees. The water continued to run, a conversation continuing as the background.

"He's pretty dirty..."

"Yeah, he is. I'm gonna give him a bath."

"I wonder who left him there..." A hand stroked Arthur's fur, tempting him to open one eye. Once he caught a glimpse of violent, he allowed it to close again.

"No tellin'. Could've just ran away."

"He has a collar."

"Couldja take it off for me?"

"Yeah, sure."

The collar that was apparently around Arthur's neck was soon removed. He opened his eyes once more and looked at it in interest, his head lifting and his ears swiveling forward. He didn't remember seeing that... But it looked as though it had been on him for a while. It was a dark brown leather, parts of it worn down. He watched as 'Mattie' took the dangling gold tag in his hand and read the name out loud.

"Arthur Kirkland..." He tilted his head at this, before he set it down on the counter top next to the sink. "I didn't know people gave their pets last names."

The water stopped running. Arthur turned his head towards Alfred, watching him wipe his hand on his jeans. Blue eyes glanced towards his quieter sibling. "There a number on it?"

"No..."

Alfred hummed lightly, but soon shrugged it off, letting out a small 'oh well'.

Arthur was soon lowered into the bath, much to his despair. Thankfully, it wasn't as bad as it seemed. The water was warm and inviting. He found himself even laying down in it with his head held above the liquid. Even the feeling of being washed was glorious and he could hear and feel purrs escaping from him. His eyes closed every now and then in bliss, leaning into the touches and rubs. By the time it was time for him to be lifted out, the water was a dull brown and filled with soap suds. He was lifted into a towel and once again leaned into the touch as it glided over his fur and massaged his sore muscles. The purring didn't quiet until a few minutes later, when he was laid down onto a makeshift bed of blankets on the floor in the living room, right in front of the fireplace. His tail swayed slowly as he curled up, his eyes closing. This was nice, he thought as he slowly drifted to sleep. He thought that he might even want to stay here, just like this. If he ever ran into the woman, Kilaanah, again, he would surely have to thank her for giving him a new life.

◆ • • • ◆

It had been three months since he was taken in. Already, he had learned so much about the two boys. He learned that they were in fact siblings. He found it odd how the two had completely different surnames – one being Jones, the other being Williams – but knew that there was no way he could communicate his curiosity to this. He could only communicate through meows, hisses, purrs, and various body movements. He found a lot of them extremely affective. Whenever he asked for food, he would rub his body against one of the siblings' legs and meow loudly. If he wanted to express irritation, he could just lay back his ears and flick his tail side to side in quick motions. If he was content, he would let out purrs.

But it wasn't just limited to that. He had memorized the exact schedule each boy had. Alfred would leave every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday and come home hours later with grease stains on his clothing, hands, and cheeks. The time he was gone usually varied and didn't have a set schedule, though he seemed to try to make it home before seven at night. He would leave on Mondays and Fridays for about three hours before coming home again. Where he went was a complete mystery to Arthur, for the male never spoke of it. He could only assume that it was college, considering that he would struggle over some type of paperwork at the dining room table on some nights. Matthew, on the other hand, had a clear, set schedule. He would leave early in the mornings, starting around four am, and come home around noon, Monday through Friday. Whenever he did, Arthur would notice the strong scent of pancakes and maple syrup, often hinting to the fact that he probably worked at some type of restaurant in the mornings, serving breakfast to the customers.

At dinner time, both of them would pitch in to help cook up something to eat. Often, Arthur could hear them arguing over what they would eat that night, only to settle for cooking different things. Even on nights they would argue, they would usually sit at the table and laugh together, telling jokes and stories of what happened at their work that day. They seemed close enough, and even reached down to feed him some of the scraps every now and then. Which, in his opinion, was much better than the cat food they gave him at the end of each dinner.

He mused over the memories he had acquired over the last few months, listening to the fire crackle beside him. Yes. This certainly was the life for him. He was being pampered, and he could see just how close brothers could be. It was a free and easy lifestyle, with no problems in the world. He didn't have to worry about money, jobs, friends, or family. All he had to do was just lounge about and listen to the siblings talk and get along. It was wonderful. He lifted his head at the sound of the door opening, his ears raising. He knew exactly what that meant.

He quickly stood to his feet and walked to the couch, leaping up onto it before leaping onto the back of the couch. Through the door, the two chattering brothers came in, holding a few paper bags of what he assumed were groceries. Flakes of snow decorated their hair and clothes, though they seemed to not notice this. Arthur let out a loud meow as to make himself noticed. Alfred grinned over and reached to pet the cat's head. "Heya, Artie!" he greeted. "Got somethin' for ya!" Arthur tilted his head in confusion. Strange... Usually they never got him anything, unless it was food. Maybe they decided to bring him some scones or crumpets?

Probably not.

The brothers continued on into the dining room, where they set down their bags full of goodies. Arthur pounced off the back of the couch and landed on his feet on the floor. Curiosity settling in, he walked all the way over to where the two men talked. One of them took out exactly what his 'present' was. He instantly lost interest. Before they could even look at him, he walked back to fireplace and plopped down right where he had been laying before.

Unfortunately, that didn't mean he was out of the woods just yet. His head lifted as soon as he heard footsteps nearing him. He didn't like what he saw. Alfred wore a wide grin and plopped down onto the couch. Matthew smiled gently and held a wire with a furry... _thing_ attached to it. He lowered to his knees and began to wave the cat toy in front of Arthur's face. Arthur merely just stared straight at Matthew with his ears flat. His whole expression read 'are you kidding me?'. Matthew's smile faded into a worried form as he sat back, the toy dangling in his hand. "I don't think he likes it, Alfred..." he mumbled.

The louder one hummed before he stood from the couch and took the toy from Matthew's hand, who then stepped out of the way. "That's 'cause you're not doin' it right. You're supposed to do it like this," he replied quite arrogantly. With a wide grin, he knelt down and leaned forward, waving the thing in front of the cat's face again. Just as before, Arthur gave the same unimpressed expression. "C'mon, Artie. Get it," he chimed as he reached forward and poked the unmoving cat with it. Arthur's tail twitched side to side.

Still, the loud American kept up with his encouragement and his poking, to the point where it really got on Arthur's nerves. In the background, a quiet voice softly gave a warning, but it was too late. _WHAP_. Arthur's paw slammed into Alfred's hand, knocking the blasted thing away from him and into the fireplace. The former human looked to the burning toy. His ears lifted and his tail swayed side to side. He held his head up high as he gaze back to Alfred. Everything about Arthur just screamed how proud he was for showing his irritation in the toy. This only grew as he saw the dumbfounded expression on the other's face.

"H-he really has a mind of his own, doesn't he?" Arthur turned his head to look towards Mattie. A lopsided smile spread across his lips as violet eyes gazed right back. "I don't think he likes it, Alfred."

Alfred sighed. "Yeah, I can see that..." he mumbled.

All three jumped at the sound of loud, persistent knocking. The two siblings glanced at each other before Alfred stood and quickly moved to the door. Arthur quickly followed after him, lingering behind the corner of the couch and peering out with mild interest. The owner of the house peered out the peephole before the door was quickly flung open. Quickly, a small girl with tattered clothing and disheveled brown hair was brought inside and ushered towards the couch. Tear stains marked her round, pink cheeks, falling from gentle brown eyes. The girl stammered off sentences that ran together, but the state she was in instantly told them all they needed to know; she had been attacked.

Arthur swiftly jumped to the loveseat where she sat, looking her over as he surveyed everything. There were large hand prints on her wrists and on her neck. Her cheek was swollen and her skin was covered in bruises, her feet dirty and scraped. One sleeve of her pink coat had been ripped off. Her lips were bruised and bleeding from a split that could only be caused by something smacking into it, such as a hard item or a hand. Arthur watched as Alfred quickly sat next to the girl, wrapping his arm around her. He held her close, carefully stroking her back as she wailed into his chest. "Shh, s'okay," he spoke softly. "We're not gonna hurt you. I promise."

The girl continued to sob into the American's shirt. The whole time the girl cried, Alfred held her close and gently rocked her back and forth, stroking the side ponytail and her back. He carefully prodded at some places on her body, careful not to touch anywhere he knew she wouldn't want him to. Arthur knew exactly what he was doing; checking for any other damage. Finally, the wails quieted and Alfred pulled away from the girl. Worry shown clear in his eyes as he wiped away her tears with his own hand. He asked for a name; she gave it. "Tell me what happened, Sierra. Be strong and tell me what happened." His voice was gentle, yet firm, drawing in Arthur's interest. For someone who was normally happy-go-lucky, loud, and obnoxious, he surely was taking the situation very well. Arthur was more than surprised with how compassionate the male was acting. No, not acting. It wasn't _acting_. He was truly being compassionate, caring, and supportive. Arthur watched in heightened interest.

The girl rambled off what she knew. She explained everything that happened happened. She spoke of how she had been walking down the street with her brother, how he had left her there to go get something from inside a store she didn't want to go into quite yet because she had a text from one of her friends, and how someone had grabbed her suddenly and pulled her into a car. She rambled off every little detail of her brother running after her, of her managing to dive out of the car, and of how the men had tried ripping off her tank top and shorts. Arthur's ears folded back as she concluded her story, her wide eyes spilling tears all over again. "J-Jett... H-he told me to run. Wh-when I got up, he w-was... The men were..." She choked up once more and hid her face in her hands. "H-he was being overpowered..."

A dead silence entered the room. A heavy air hung over them as grim expression befell Matthew and Alfred. Alfred glanced to his brother. He nodded. Arthur watched the younger male grab the land line from the end table next to him, dialing only three numbers as he pressed the phone against his ear. Alfred and Arthur both looked back to the girl. "Sierra... Can you tell me what the guys looked like?" the human asked carefully. His expression held determination and understanding.

Sierra wiped at her eyes. Arthur stepped forward to rub his head against her arm, trying his best to comfort her in his own way. Thankfully, this seemed to work, for she smiled gently and stroked his ears. She looked back to the one who had his arm around her, and began listing every single detail she could possibly remember of her attackers, right down to the scar across one of their eyebrows. As she spoke, Matthew followed in suite, explaining it to the men on the other end of the phone.

However, it wasn't what Arthur was focused on. Instead, he was gazing directly at Alfred, his ears turned towards him. The way the male held himself up and comforted the girl almost seemed as though he knew what he were doing, quickly taking action and saying everything he needed to. It was... very captivating to Arthur. Never before had he seen a man with so much courage and devotion to helping out someone he barely knew. Suddenly, he realized. He was becoming very drawn to this man's personality as a whole. Though it may have been overbearing at times, he realized that this man was someone who wouldn't let even a stranger walk away crying. This man looked out for everyone and anyone, no matter who it was. This man... He was a true hero.

◆ • • • ◆

Once again, Arthur lay before the fire. It was the dead of winter, and he could tell by the darkness outside that it was snowing heavily. Alfred had been coming back earlier than usual, and usually not covered in as much grease as he usually was. Matthew, however, had stayed out just as long as he always had, sometimes looking more worn out than usual. No matter whether they would be home or they were somewhere else, Arthur had claimed this spot by the fireplace as his own. He loved it, and refused to move anywhere else whenever the fire was on – and it nearly always was. They went through a lot of wood to do this, but in their minds, it was worth it. Just like Arthur, all of them loved the sounds of the crackling fire and the smell of the burning wood. His ear flicked at the chime of the clock hanging on the wall, next to the downstairs bathroom. It played its wonderful tune before it chimed out the exact time.

_Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding._

Seven. His head lifted, his ears pulling forward. That was odd... Today was a Friday. Usually Alfred was home by five on these days. He lifted from his spot and stretched out his front legs, and then his back legs. After a shake from his body, he stepped forward and jumped onto the couch. He surveyed the area. No one. He jumped off the arm of the couch and landed gracefully to the floor. Taking careful steps, he ascended up the stairs and onto the second floor. Just as he did, the door to his left opened and Matthew exited. The wavy-haired blond stopped for a moment before smiling gently, reaching down to stroke the fur of Arthur's head. "Is Alfred back yet?" Arthur's ears pulled back. Not even a sound escaped from his throat. Matthew's smile faded and his gaze softened. "I see... Thank you, Arthur."

His tail twitched in reply. He turned and descended back down the steps once more. So, he thought as he stopped to look at the front door, Alfred wasn't home yet, when he should've been an hour ago. Cat-like eyes studied the door for a few moments before he finally gave up, plodding his way back to the fireplace. He curled back up and waited patiently, listening once again to the crackle of the flames.

Only a few moments later and the door swung open. He lifted his head and turned his head. The door quietly and slowly swung closed. Arthur's ears pulled back. This wasn't right... There was no shout of 'I'm home'. There was no echo of the door slamming closed. He quickly stood and walked around the couch, gazing up at the one who just came through the door, only to find the boy already turning the corner towards the stairs. "Alfred?"

There was a small pause. Arthur stepped forward, carefully following the older brother. "Hey." He could hear the strained smile. It worried him even more.

"Is something wrong?" Worry dripped heavy on the soft voice. Arthur turned the corner just in time to see Alfred shaking his head slowly. Mattie stared at him with a worried expression, his hand clenched near his heart. His lips were slightly parted and his eyebrows were drawn together and upwards. He watched his brother with timid violet eyes, the older one walking past his younger sibling and towards the bedroom on the right. "A-are you sure...? You don't look too good..."

Arthur continued up the steps until he reached the very top. He watched curiously, and listened. Alfred cast a forced smile over his shoulder, large hands shoved into the pockets of his brown bomber jacket. He looked back with hollow, worn blue eyes. "I'm fine. I just need some sleep." His voice wasn't as loud as it usually was. It was almost a whisper, trying to sound strong.

The cat watched intently as the man disappeared behind the door of his bedroom. He looked to Matthew, then to the door. He walked over to it and meowed loudly. Nothing. Again, he let out a meow and pawed at the door. Nothing. He looked over his shoulder at Matthew, and meowed again. Gently, the other smiled. "Alright, Artie. I'll let you in." He stepped out of the way for the younger brother, the door soon opening. As soon as he was inside, the door closed behind him.

Inside of the room was dark, a large contrast compared to what it was outside, in the hallway. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjusted to the sudden change in lighting. Through the very dim light that filtered in through the drawn curtains, he could see the form of Alfred lying on his bed, his back to the door. He made no sound, nor did he move. There was a slight hesitation from the former human. Finally, he gained the courage to carefully step forward, stepping over the many clothes, trash, and papers strewn about the room. Once he came to the edge of the bed, he jumped up and landed on the blue comforter. He leaped over the legs and circled around to the head, looking down at the human before him.

Blue eyes weren't closed at all. Instead, they focused down at the pillow below his arm, his fist balled tightly near his chin. It was odd to see Alfred's eyes without them being framed by black metal. And filled with tears. Arthur's stomach dropped at this realization. Never before had he ever seen the boy looking so troubled. It worried him. He let out a soft mewl and stepped forward. The eyes looked directly towards him. A wisp of a smile came to Alfred's lips. He reached forward to lightly stroke the ears, causing a light purr to come from the cat. "Hey there, buddie..." he mumbled softly. Arthur closed his eyes. "Whatcha doin' here, huh? Mattie let you in?"

Arthur gave no answer and instead leaned into the touch. The hand soon pulled away and, when he opened his eyes again, he realized that the smile was gone. He lay down right where he stood, his tail swaying side to side. What could have possibly happened to make the 19-year-old so down? Just by the look in his eyes, Arthur could tell that there was something troubling him greatly. He scooted closer and nudged the American's chin, letting out a small "mreow" as he did so.

Alfred chuckled lightly and stroked the cat's fur, giving him another forced smile. "S'alright. I'll be okay."

Arthur's ears folded back at this. So he was right. There _was_ something wrong... He gave another meow, this one louder than before. He stared directly at the man, his ears swiveling forward. The smile had faded once more. Hollow eyes stared straight at him. "You're worried about me, aren't you?" He leaned forward and nudged the blond's chin, then looked at him patiently. Oh, how he wished he could speak... It would be so much easier to actually just say 'tell me' than to sit here and try to communicate it through touch and vocals the other didn't understand.

He remained quiet, however, when the male began speaking, explaining what was troubling him. "My father visited me today." Arthur's ears raised. He hadn't heard of the siblings speak of any parental figures before, but now, he was finally hearing something. There was a small, wistful smile and a pat of the head. "Don't get your hopes up, Artie... My father doesn't like me." Oh. That's why he never spoke of his father. His ears drew back as soon as the hand did. "I was working in the shop today and my father found me. I was fixing a car for some of my customers.

"He didn't say what he was there for. He just started to curse at me." He sighed lightly and drew the cat closer to him. Arthur allowed him to without any struggle or protest. "My father... never liked me..." he mumbled as he pressed his face into the cat's fur. "He doesn't approve of anything I do. I've tried to please him before, but... He just won't have it." He sighed lightly, the breath tickling the soft fur. "I was an accident child. My father told Mom to just have an abortion, but she wouldn't listen. He left her and she married another man. Mattie was born when I was two. My father came back on my tenth birthday because he heard I wanted to be a firefighter and save people. He told me it was childish and stupid.

"I didn't care what he said to me. But then a few years later, he started turning his hate on Matthew. He started cursing at him, telling him that he shouldn't be alive, that he wasn't wanted by anyone. Mattie started to cry every night and it didn't help that he doesn't have that many friends in the first place. He's too quiet, y'know? So people don't notice him." There was a moment of hesitation, a moment of silence. The voice had died down to a mere whisper when he continued, "It got so bad one night, that he tried to run away from home. I found him standing on the side of a bridge, looking down at the water." His shoulders shook lightly as he pulled the cat closer to him. Again, Arthur wished that he was a human yet again. His eyes widened at the feeling of tears soaking into his fur, the smell drifting towards his sensitive nose. The male was crying.

There was a small silence. Alfred spoke again, his voice quivering. "Today... My father threatened that he would find where we lived... I found out today that he's been convicted for murder and abuse on a few accounts. I wouldn't put it passed him. But now..." His breath hitched. His body shook. Arthur could feel the tears against his skin now, soaked completely through the fur. "I-I really worry... for Mattie. That guy knows how to get to me. Without hurting me... H-he already scared off... Kiku... I don't w-want to lose anyone else."

Silence befell the two. Just by the sounds of the sniffling, the shaking of his body, and the feeling of tears within the fur, Arthur could tell just how badly this man had hurt the blond American. His ears lay flat and he rested his head on top of Alfred, letting out soft purrs in hopes that it would comfort him. The crying didn't cease until nearly an hour later, in which they finally died to only small sniffles. The man's voice was weak and full of fatigue. "Thanks, Artie... For bein' here..." he spoke as he pulled his head away. Chapped lips gently pressed against the top of Arthur's head.

It didn't take long for the 19-year-old to fall asleep. For a few more moments, Arthur stayed away and merely watched, his ears concentrated forward as his tail swayed slowly. Once he was absolutely sure the other was asleep, he laid his head down and listened to the gentle breathing and the calm heartbeat near him. Silently, he thanked Kilaanah for turning him to a cat. If he wasn't a cat, then he wouldn't have even seen such details during the night. He wouldn't have known that this would happen. And most of all, he wouldn't have realized that he was capable of falling in love.

◆ • • • ◆

Green eyes suspiciously stared out into the night. Through the darkness, he could see the figure of someone standing there, on the sidewalk. The man had been pacing back and forth, leaving and returning, stepping towards the door and stepping back towards the street. He had been doing this for at _least_ an hour now. The reason Arthur knew this was because he had been woken up by a light crash that came from outside. When he jumped onto the loveseat and looked out the back window, he could see a figure standing out there. Ever since then, he had been sitting there in that same spot, his tail twitching back and forth as his ears pinned back. He tried to see the details of the man, but alas, found that he couldn't due to the heavy overcast and the lampposts casting a dark shadow across his face.

His ear flicked upon hearing someone come down the stairway, his head turning to see exactly who it was. He was rewarded with the sight of Alfred walking down, already fully dressed in a stained t-shirt and a pair of comfortable jeans. He flashed a grin towards the chat and continued on towards the kitchen, flicking on the light. When Arthur peered back to the street, the man was gone, without a single trace. He stared out suspiciously once more.

A few moments later, he shrugged it off, leaping down from the couch and wandering into the kitchen, where Alfred was fixing himself a bowl of cereal. He meowed loudly, and was met with a 'shh' from the boy. "Hold on, I'll get it soon. Quiet down, will ya? Mattie's tryin' to sleep." Arthur complied. Saturday was, after all, the day that Matthew was able to relax. He didn't want to ruin that by accidentally waking him up. His tail swayed side-to-side patiently as he waited.

It wasn't long before two bowls were carried into the dining room, one set on the table and the other on the floor right next to the chair. The American sat in the chair and the cat strode up to what he assumed was his bowl, looking down at the stuff. Granted, he got used to it, but he sure as hell missed the food he used to eat as a human. With only slight hesitation, Arthur crouched down and began to eat away at his own breakfast, his tail swaying.

The breakfast wasn't as long as he assumed it would be. In fact, it seemed like the human had instead just inhaled everything that was in the bowl and set it in the sink within only ten minutes. Upon hearing the boy slip on his shoes, Arthur walked into the living room with curiosity. Was he leaving so soon...? It was still very dark out, and he usually left more around seven or eight.

He watched as the male turned and flashed him a grin. "Don't worry, Artie. I'm just gonna go down to the store and get some medicine for Mattie. He's not feelin' very good," he reassured. Oh. So that's what he was doing. That was okay, then. He followed the man up to the bedroom, not truly listening to the mumbles of 'forgot this' and 'forgot that'. Instead of paying attention to what the male grabbed, he sat on the windowsill, gazing down at the dark alleyway below. Then he saw him. The man from earlier, standing in the alleyway. Something glinted in the light that poured from the window.

Instantly, his ears folded back. He knew exactly what was happening. This man was trying to kill Alfred. His head turned quickly as the light flickered off. No, no, no, no! He couldn't leave! Not now! Letting out a strangled cry, Arthur leaped from the windowsill and darted out the room. Heavy footsteps glided down the stairs. He quickly darted around the corner and continued his mad run, accidentally tripping himself on his way down. He grunted as he tumbled down the rest of the flight of stairs and slammed into the wall. He stood, shaking it off. The door opened. His eyes widened.

He pushed forward once again, sprinting down the last steps and rounding the corner. His gaze was met with the back of Alfred's shirt, slowly disappearing behind a closing white door. He tried desperately to shout his name. The door closed.

He took no time to rush back up the steps before he heard the door's lock click closed. He sprinted through the short hallway, through the door to the right, across the room, and to the window. He slammed his paws down on the lock and pushed it open, leaping out onto the dumpster and down towards the cold ground. He looked to the right. The man disappeared around the corner.

Panic settled in as he raced down the dark alleyway and out onto the sidewalk. He turned sharply to the left. His eyes settled on the silver that glinted in the man's hand. He willed his legs to run faster, spreading them out as far as he could. His ears laid back as he sprinted towards the man following behind Alfred. His stomach nearly dropped as he saw the man violently twist Alfred's hand behind his back and hold the knife out, ready to plunge. As soon as he was close enough, he pounced towards the man.

An angry, determined shout emanated from his lips, echoing through the night. Arms wrapped the attacker around the waist and tackled him to the ground. He grunted as the two fell to the ground, quickly leaping off of him. He took no note of any of his surroundings and instead focused back to the attacker, who stood. The man charged towards Arthur, knife in hand, and thrust it towards him. Years of training flooded back into the Brit. Arthur was quick to jump out of the way, grabbing the wrist and twisting it violently until he was sure it would break if he were to twist it any more. The man let out a shout and released the knife. It clattered to the ground with a metallic ring.

After releasing the hand, Arthur swung his right leg in a wide arm, the top of his shoe slamming into the stomach. The man let out a shout as he fell onto his back, and yet another one as his side was kicked. He rolled onto his aching stomach, Arthur quick to straddle him and seize his hands. He pulled them both behind the man's back, crossing his ankles over the man's struggling legs. He growled at the man's persistent struggles. "You limey git! You should know better than to pick a bloody fight with an ex-policeman!" he cursed. He quickly tore off a piece of fabric from his shirt and tied the man's wrists together with them.

With that done, he stood and looked towards Alfred. Relief washed over him. He was safe and sound, without a single injury. "You're safe... That's good..." he murmured. Fatigue, just like before hen he had turned into a cat, washed over him. He collapsed to his knees, shivering from cold. His hands pressed against the cold stone below him, coughing at the feeling that overwhelmed him. So that was the reason he had felt sick that day... It was because of the change.

"Who... Who are you...?"

He looked back up to see blue eyes looking straight at him. It was then that he realized the American had moved to kneel right before him. Gently, he smiled. "You might not believe me, but... I'm your cat. Arthur Kirkland," he replied, his voice weak. He reached forward and patted Alfred's cheek. "You found me in an alleyway a few months ago. I apologize for not telling you sooner. I tried, but you wouldn't listen." There was a look of confusion, but then realization dawned on him.

"You're... Artie...?"

Arthur nodded, gazing into the blue eyes. His hand fell from Alfred's cheek. He glanced to the man lying beside them. "That's your father... isn't it? He has the same color eyes you do."

It was Alfred's turn to nod. Arthur was surprised to feel strong arms wrap around him. Nonetheless, he happily returned the hug, his fingers curling into the bomber jacket the younger male always wore. He buried his face into the shoulder, taking in the scent he had grown so used to. "I knew you weren't an ordinary cat... I thought I was going crazy. Thank you," the American spoke. "For protecting me from my father. And always being there for me when I needed you."

The former cat smiled softly. "No problem..." His head lifted so that his chin hooked over Alfred's, allowing the male to pull him closer. Green eyes opened halfway.

Before him stood a dark-skinned woman in silken blue robes. A gentle smile alighted her lips. She pressed the tips of her fingers to her lips and gently placed them to his forehead. "You wish has been granted, Arthur Kirkland. I have kept my promise, just as you have asked. You have done well in believing in me," she spoke softly. Judging by how Alfred didn't move at the woman's voice, he hadn't heard her speak at all.

Arthur's grin only grew, tears brimming his eyes and sliding down his cheeks. Silently, he mouthed a 'thank you'. The woman smiled in return and, the next time he blinked, she was gone.

He would never speak to her again, nor would he speak about her, but he would always silently thank her for everything she gave him. She had given him a new life, a new home, a new family, and, the best of all, someone to care for. She had given him an eventual lover, something he had never even dreamed he would have before. And never would he wish for something more. Yes... Even if he could only answer the brothers' curious questions with 'magic', this was perfectly fine for him.


End file.
